


Forever - is composed of Nows

by anisstaranise



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Falling In Love, HIV/AIDS, M/M, Slavery, Stabbing, Temporary Character Death, Vietnam War, Whipping, war injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 06:57:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7747630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anisstaranise/pseuds/anisstaranise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Universe is set upon a set of rules. In life, there is a beginning and inevitably- there is an end.</p><p>However, to every rule, there is an exception.</p><p>And Sebastian Smythe is the exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever - is composed of Nows

**Author's Note:**

> Wriiten for [SEBLAINE WEEK 2016](http://seblaineaffairs.tumblr.com/tagged/sw2016): _Day 6 - **Reincarnation/Multiple Lives**_.
> 
> Inspired by the tv series **Underground** (WGN) and **Forever** (2015).
> 
> Title from the poem by [Emily Dickinson](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/52202).
> 
> Utmost gratitude to my darling, @ttinycourageous.

**1857**

The heat from the flames licking the cotton fields seeps through his clothes, causing him to sweat profusely as he runs as fast as his feet can carry him.

Sebastian sees a couple of figures running ahead of him- two, maybe three of the plantation workers- but his only concern is the one trailing behind him.

“Come on, Isaiah,” Sebastian calls over his shoulder. “Not long now. You have to keep up.”

They’re running towards the river where a makeshift raft awaits, ready to take Isaiah and the others out of Georgia to the North, to their chance at freedom.

Born into a family of Southern gentry, Sebastian Smythe was a high-spirited and big-hearted young man who had opted out of inheriting the cotton plantations that had been in the Smythe family for generations in favour of becoming a physician. _That Sebastian, always eager to help people_ \- an anecdote his mother told proudly at parties.

In studying medicine, Sebastian had travelled the world. His travels had exposed him to various beliefs and cultures and it is this that had nurtured his empathy and compassion- something he believed his father, Thomas Smythe- lacked. How else could a man enslave another and call him _property?_  

Before long, a 23-year-old Sebastian had returned home an abolitionist and vowed to use his station to help advance the human rights of those in bondage.

“A few more feet!” he yells as he stops to allow Isaiah to catch up.

This is his third undertaking in helping the enslaved workers run away but to him- it’s the most important- all because of Isaiah.

As children, Sebastian and Isaiah had grown up together in ‘the Big House’- as the workers called it. They had done everything together – Sebastian even had secretly taught Isaiah how to read and write since his father had denied the workers right to education.

Many had not approved of the bond they had shared. “Unnatural,” he had overheard one of his mother’s friends say at a family brunch one day. As a child, he had trouble understanding it. How was he different from Isaiah? But he had decided that it didn’t matter- Isaiah was his best friend, the closest person he had to a brother.

The day they had turned ten, Isaiah had been sent to work in the cotton fields. “Put those hands to good use,” his father had said and the separation had broken Sebastian’s heart.

One evening, he had snuck out of the house to the fields with a pocket full of toffee meant for Isaiah, excited to see his friend again. But the sight that had greeted him was something that would haunt him for the rest of his days; the plantation’s overseer was whipping Isaiah for failing to meet the daily weight of picked cottons.

He had run crying to his father, lamenting how Mister Bill had been hurting his friend. His father merely laughed, stating that an example must be made to those who do not make weight, even if it was a ten year old boy.

“Some day when you’re all grown up just like me, this plantation will all be yours-,” his father had said. “- you’ll understand.”

Sebastian hadn’t been able to fathom such logic; all that had mattered to him was how someone had hurt his friend and his father had done nothing to stop it.

“Isaiah got hurt and Daddy didn’t help. I don’t like Daddy. He’s being bad,” Sebastian had whispered through sniffles into the shoulder of Nettie Mae- the head servant who ran the Smythe household- and Isaiah’s mother. “Daddy says one day I’ll be a grown up like him. Does that mean I’ll be bad, too?”

“Oh, Sebastian,” Nettie Mae had cooed. He had always loved the way she said his name: _suh-bas-tee-yan_. Such a soothing sound.

“Yous your own man. Smart. Good heart. Just ‘cause your pa ain’t the best of them man, don’t mean you is.”

Sebastian had held those words close to his heart since. Nettie Mae had a way with words; she was smart as she was kind.

“My ma, Seb!” Isaiah exclaims as soon as he’s by Sebastian’s side. “She still in the cookhouse.”

Sebastian looks back at the path they had been following and listens intently for a sound- any sound- but he’s only met with silence. His heart sinks to his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes.

Guilt sits heavy on his shoulders; the first two times he had helped the runaways had gone according to plan, as brilliantly as Isaiah had concocted it- but now- everything is going sideways and he knows it’s his fault.

Isaiah and some of the other workers were supposed to gather at the edge of the plantation at nightfall while Sebastian’s parents entertained guests from out of town. He was supposed to meet them there to oversee the plan.

But as Sebastian and Isaiah were making their way to the meeting point, a drunken Mister Bill had confronted them, frantically waving his torch in their direction, eyes bewildered and smelling heavily of whiskey. He had been screaming accusations that Sebastian’s ‘disgraceful Northerner ways’ had plagued the minds of the workers of ‘silly dreams that a Negro can be free’ and had emboldened them to run away.

“I’s just helpin’ young Massa Sebastian here break in a mare, Mister Bill,” Isaiah had said in an effort to calm the overseer’s tirade. “I want no trouble.”

The fact that Isaiah had said anything only angered Mister Bill more, prompting the overseer to grab his ever-present whip that hung coiled by his hip. He had let it uncurl to his feet, ready to use it on Isaiah.

The sight of it had stirred an old memory and Sebastian had seen red. At ten years old, he hadn’t had the power to stop the man from hurting his best friend. But now that he was a grown man, he wasn’t going to let it happen again.

Sebastian had lunged forward and tackled the overseer to the ground, causing the torch to fly out of the drunken man’s hand, into the cotton field. The summer heat had made the crops dry and it had caught fire almost instantaneously.

And the fire had spread fast.

“We gotta run now!” Sebastian had yelled, panicked, as his feet tore through the part of the field that wasn’t ablaze yet.

They had run as fast as their feet could carry them and as they neared the meeting point, Isaiah had all but barked to the others to start running, too.

 Originally, they were supposed to wait for the bootlegger’s carriage, a friend whose favour Sebastian had implored, to come along and sneak them past the main gates of the estate. And they were supposed to wait for some of the house servants- including Nettie Mae- to join them.

But now, all they could do was run- Sebastian along with them- leaving those who hadn’t made it in time behind.

“You ain’t gotta be sorry ‘bout a damn thing,” Isaiah says, fiercely holding Sebastian’s gaze. “That’s the thing about plans- they always changin’. And you done just what you had to. You gone saved my life, Sebastian Smythe, and the lives of the other runaways you helped before. You’s a good man, don’t you think different.”

And just like that, he feels a little of his worry and guilt lift. Isaiah had a way with words- truly his mother’s son.

“We’ll come back for her,” Sebastian vows.

“Massa Tom’s gon’ give her hell ‘cause of me.”

This time it’s Sebastian that holds his friend’s gaze, making sure he hears the truth in his words.

“You don’t have to call my father ‘Master’ anymore. You’re a free man now, as you should be. And I promise, your mother will be free, too.”

“Don’t go ‘round making promises you can’t keep, son,” his father’s voice booms loudly in the darkness, his mare trotting up the path leading out to the clearing and he almost jumps out of his skin.

Sebastian and Isaiah had been so caught up in worrying about Nettie Mae that they hadn’t realized a search party had caught up with them.

“Father, I beg of you! Leave them alone,” he says and he’s ready to grovel at his father’s feet if that’s what it’ll take for the man to give up his pursuit of the runaways.

“They’re my property, Sebastian. I intend for it to remain that way,” his father says smugly and the coldness that hangs in the elder Smythe’s voice makes his skin crawl.

“This is wrong and you know it.”

“Don’t you try to blind me with your abolitionist nonsense, boy,” Thomas Smythe shouts, the veins in his temple strained with anger. “A slave’s a slave. Ain’t no two ways about it.”

A moment passed before more of the search party arrives; Sebastian and Isaiah are completely surrounded.

“Take the slave,” his father commands.

“No!” he bellows and steps protectively before Isaiah. “You’ll have to go through me.”

Even in the darkness, he sees the disgust that settles on his father’s features.

“You’re no son of mine,” the elder Smythe hisses.

And before he even realizes what’s happening, he sees his father pull out his prized Colt, aims at his chest and pulls the trigger.

**\---**

**1972**

The rain pelts hard from the sky as Sebastian wades through the waist-high flood with the rest of his platoon, determined to reach base before nightfall. His arms ached from holding his Unit One pack and rifle- the most significant equipments as a combat medic- above his head for long intervals to keep them from being too soaked.

Lightning streaks a branch of silvery light amidst the grey skies and the thunder that follows shakes the trees around him. He hears some of his comrades complain about the fickle Vietnamese weather- one moment it’s hot and severely humid then it’s raining torrents the next.

Sebastian smiles in amusement as he watches the raindrops splash tiny dots on the flood’s surface. Water doesn’t bother him. Despite the circumstance, he feels a sense of security when it comes to water.

He remembers the summer his father had first taught him how to swim. The heat had been stifling and the coolness of the river had been such a reprieve that he had unwittingly abandoned his initial fears of the water.

It saddens him to think that those swimming lessons may have been the only thing Sebastian’s father had left him with.

That- and the scar on his chest.

The intensity of the downpour stings his skin as he turns his face up to the sky, the memories of that fateful night flooding his mind.

Some days, Sebastian can still feel the heat of the burning cotton fields on his skin and the weight of sweat sitting on his brows. And he still remembers the fiery spark of the Colt as the hammer hit the primer after his father pulled the trigger.

There had been a searing pain in his chest as he fell to the ground. He remembers the feel of Isaiah’s arms around him, his big, calloused hands frantically trying to put pressure upon the wound. Despite the macabre memory, he smiles at the thought of smart, fearless Isaiah.

Often when he returned home to the Smythe estate for a break from his studies, Isaiah would bombard him with questions pertaining to medicine, to anatomy and to Sebastian’s travels, with curiosity and child-like wonder in his eyes.

He had proudly shared with Isaiah everything he had learned. Isaiah, on the other hand, had been a quick-learner, his knowledge of pathology quickly rivalling Sebastian’s.

As Isaiah had tried- and failed- to stop the bleeding, Sebastian couldn’t help diagnosing himself. He had tried to breathe but the air felt trapped. _A collapsed lung_ , he had thought. And there had been an excruciating pain slowly blooming in his chest. _Blood filling up the pericardium_.

 _I don’t want to die_ , he had wanted to say.

“I’m – sorry-” Sebastian had gasped instead.

“No, you hang on now-,” Isaiah had cried, opting to stay with Sebastian instead of trying to escape the elder Smythe’s henchmen who were fast approaching.

“Proud-,” he had said, gurgling a little blood. “-to be- your brother.”

One of the last memories he had of that night had been Isaiah’s tears on his face and the feel of his best friend’s hands on his heart as it had thumped its final beat.

Then, all there had been was darkness-

And the cold.

The weight of the dark and dank coldness had pressed all around him, making him feel confined, trapped. And it had felt as it was never-ending.

Until-

After what had felt like forever, a glaring light had danced behind Sebastian’s eyelids, startling him. He had felt like just waking up from a deep sleep. He had tried to breathe but everything around felt too thick and it burned his lungs. Only when he had opened his eyes did Sebastian realize he was underwater.

Sunlight had pierced through the water, its rays swaying with the current. Despite his disorientation and slight panic, Sebastian had forced himself to swim up to the surface.

It had been a sweet relief the moment he broke through the surface, the air gracing his lungs once again.

Sebastian had paddled around a moment trying to get his bearings, trying to calm his breathing and his heart’s frantic beating. Heart beat, he had thought, confused. He then cast his eyes towards the sun; it was still low in the east- just after day break, he had gathered.

As he had swum to the safety of the banks, he deduced that he was by the Savannah River- though he was nowhere near the Smythe estate. And he had realized that he didn’t have anything on him- no stitch of clothing- save for a scar on his chest; red, raw, angry.

Sebastian’s fingers subconsciously trace the scar over his drenched army fatigue; evidence of his first death. He’s suffered many deaths over the past century, many different ways of dying- and he remembers most of the pain, the suffering, the despair.

With every death- he’s _revived_ \- and he _always_ returns in water.

Suddenly- the ground shakes- pulling him out of his reverie.

Somewhere ahead, an explosion erupts its fiery cloud, the loud sound rivalling the thunder. Sebastian- along with his platoon- instinctively looks for cover, splashing through the thinning flood. He checks his surrounding; the base can’t be more than two kilometres away. And the explosion seemed close- which can only mean-

“The base is under fire,” he hears his lieutenant shout, followed by a series of commands.

Sebastian follows the orders easily, something akin to muscle memory- having fought in three wars in his (long) lifetime.

The first had been the Civil War. It had been unfortunate that he never reunited with Isaiah or Nettie Mae- never knowing of their fates- but he intended to keep his promise; that he would join the fight for their freedom.

 And he had fought valiantly and aided wounded soldiers in the two World Wars that had followed.

It was only fitting that when the country had declared war against Vietnam, he had signed up as a combat medic. He’s seen his fair share of death and suffering when it comes to war but he feels that the _condition_ that he’s blessed with- his immortality, he’ll use it for good. _That Sebastian,_ he would hear his mother’s voice say in his mind, _always eager to help people._

Sebastian weaves through the trees and jumps over bushes stealthily, avoiding the line of fire with his ears tuned on high alert to any call of distress.

“Medic!” a voice roars over the sound of a grenade exploding.

Sebastian rushes towards the call.

“Medic!”

 It takes him a while to spot them – two soldiers half hidden behind a fallen tree- one crouching over the other, hands bloody from trying to stop the bleeding.

“Oh, thank God!” the blond soldier with the bloody hands exclaims in relief. “I dunno what to do- I dunno how to help-”

Sebastian takes off his Unit One pack from his back as he lays a hand on the blond soldier- ‘Evans’ as stated on his army fatigue- to calm him down.

“You did good, Evans,” he says as he swiftly assesses the other soldier’s wound. A piece of shrapnel is embedded in the soldier’s right leg just above the knee but the gash runs down to his calf. The blood doesn’t seem to be gushing or squirting and it’s a shade of dark red. All good signs, Sebastian surmises- which means the shrapnel didn’t hit an artery.

He looks to the soldier’s chest for a name- Anderson.

“Hey Anderson, you doing okay?” Sebastian asks, feeling around the wound with nimble fingers as the soldier silently nods.

 “I’m going to pull out this shrapnel so that I can stop the bleeding, alright?” he explains, searching for signs of shock in the soldier’s eyes. Beautiful, brown eyes, he notes.

“You’re the expert, Doc,” Anderson says with a pained huff but quickly follows it with a small laugh.

Sebastian deftly tears the fabric of the battle dress pants to make quick work at the wound, careful not to cause the shrapnel to further damage the tissues while Evans watches nervously a few feet away.

“You know, Doc-” Anderson says, pulling his attention away from the wound. “- usually I’d let a guy buy me dinner first before I let him rip my pants off.”

Sebastian smiles- charmed by the young soldier’s sense of humour. He grabs a syrette from his kit and cleans an area of the soldier’s thigh as best he can without an alcohol swab but before he can administer the painkiller, Anderson stops him.

“Save your morphine, Doc. It’s just a scratch.”

He’s enamoured by this man’s bravery, downplaying his grievous injuries. Most of all, he’s enamoured by those brown eyes.

“Funny, charming _and_ brave,” Sebastian flirts. “My kind of guy.”

Sebastian notices a tint of pink kissing the soldier’s cheeks at his comment as he works to remove the shrapnel from the wound. _He blushes_ , Sebastian thinks. _Endearing_.

Later that night, once the platoon had successfully driven away the militia that had attacked the base deeper into the forest, Sebastian visits the infirmary, checking up on some of the soldiers wounded during the crossfire.

“Private Anderson,” he greets, stopping at one of the cots. “How are you feeling?”

“Doc- please. Call me Blaine.”

“Alright, _Blaine_ ,” Sebastian says, grinning at the flirtatious tone. “How are you feeling?” he repeats as he inspects the sutures under the dressing before bandaging it up again.

“To be honest, Doc, I’m feeling pretty lucky,” Blaine quips. “Never thought I’d get blown up the first day I’m shipped to ‘Nam. But hey- if that’s what it takes for us to meet, it makes it all worth it, right?”

It’s Sebastian’s turn to blush. He’s been in love before- countless of times in the past century- but he can’t remember the last time anyone left him feeling flustered. And he certainly can’t recall ever blushing at someone’s advances. It’s those eyes, he suspects. It would be really easy to fall for those brown eyes.

“Well, since they’re sending you home to give you time to heal- perhaps I could buy you that dinner once my tour ends.”

Blaine smiles and it sends his heart racing.

“I’d love that very much.”

\---

**1985**

The sheets wrapped around his waist rustle as Sebastian moves to kiss his boyfriend- behind the ear, down his neck and trails his tongue over the chest and further to the stomach, eliciting a titillating moan from the man.

“You’re so beautiful, Blaine-” he whispers into his boyfriend’s skin.

“And you-,” Blaine says, gently tilting Sebastian’s face to him, “- are trying to change the subject.”

He punctuates his moves up Blaine’s body with a kiss despite groaning in protest.

“I am not changing the subject,” Sebastian says once they’re lying down face to face. “I’m merely avoiding it altogether.”

“This isn’t funny, Sebastian.”

They’ve had this conversation before over the years but his resolve is just strong as the day he had made the decision.

“I want to regard my _condition_ as a gift- Blaine,” he says for the umpteenth time. “If I can help, I want to.”

Blaine sighs- not so much in defeat but in understanding. “I know. But it still scares me.”

“I know, baby.”

“What if there’s an expiration date for this thing you’re gifted with? What if there’s a counter that you’re unaware of and it’s getting closer to zero?” Blaine says, reciting a list Sebastian has heard before each time they talk about his condition.

“Baby-”

“What if you don’t come back this time?”

It’s the distress in Blaine’s voice that moves him to drape his body over his boyfriend’s, carding his fingers through Blaine’s thick, gorgeous curls slightly damp from the sweat of their love making earlier.

“There aren’t a lot of things in life that are certain, Blaine Anderson-,” Sebastian says as he places a peck on his boyfriend’s nose. “- but be certain that I will always- always- come back to you.”

Over the last century, Sebastian has experimented in various ways to test the extent of his immortality- the hypotheses and methods were different, but the outcome was always the same- he always came back.

And for the first time in his long life, he’s grateful for it- because whatever happens- he’ll always have Blaine to come back to.

“I’m just afraid-,” Blaine breathes, placing a hand over his heart, fingers tracing his scar. “- I don’t ever want to lose you.”

 “My love-”

“I know that you come back but every time you- leave-,” Blaine says, opting to never use the word ‘die’, his voice breaking slightly. “- it kills me.”

Sebastian presses their bodies close and kisses him deep. It’s the only way he knows how to allay some of Blaine’s hurt. The last thing he wants is to upset Blaine- but he can’t deny his calling, his purpose for being granted this immortality. All he ever wanted was to help others- and now he can in ways others cannot.

“What time are we meeting Marley again?” Blaine’s asks against his lips once they break apart.

It’s Blaine who’s changing the subject now. But he doesn’t press on it. Sebastian knows that- after years of being together- Blaine may have his reservations, his fears- but he will always be right there in Sebastian’s corner, supporting him.

“She’s waiting for us at the Bunker,” he answers, kissing down Blaine’s body again until he stops at the right thigh, fingers lovingly tracing a faint thirteen-year-old scar.

The Bunker is an old underground infirmary built during World War II that has been commandeered by the government for medical research- a research for the treatment- or possibly a cure- for the HIV/AIDS pandemic currently sweeping the nation.

Sebastian had seen his fair share of pandemics over the last hundred years and apart from contributing to the cause with his brilliant mind, he had done what he usually did in these cases; he had volunteered his body to science.

He would subject himself to the disease, culturing it within while doctors and scientists worked to better understand its prognoses, how it spreads and how best to contain and treat it.

The perks of immortality.

However, he’s careful to omit the particular perk when volunteering now. He had once learned the hard way that there are people in the world who would do brutally atrocious things to him to uncover the miracles of his condition.

Sebastian had been experimented on and tortured in the name of science.

It was then that he decided that he would hide his condition from the world, from everyone- all but those he loved;

Blaine- and the head of the HIV/AIDS research team- Marley Rose.

Sebastian had met a beautiful, young family aboard a passenger train on his way to Berkshire in 1955. Marley had been but a toddler.

Then, in a split second, their worlds had changed when the train derailed.

At impact, Sebastian had instinctively shielded the little girl who had been playing by his seat. But there was nothing he could have done for her parents.

Orphaned and terrified, Marley had cried in his arms, unaware of the piece of metal that had protruded through Sebastian’s abdomen, missing her by mere centimetres.

As his heart had slowed its pace, he had looked into Marley’s tear-filled eyes and vowed to come back for her and keep her safe, to never let her feel alone.

Once Sebastian had resurfaced along the River Thames a few moments later, he had rushed to the scene of the crash, claiming to be Marley’s uncle and had raised her as his own since.

“Does it bother you sometimes-?” Blaine had asked once. “- to have this daughter who’s now older than you’ll ever be?”

Sebastian had kissed him then, the glide of his lips on Blaine’s his attempt to assuage the insecurity that he had heard imbedded in the question; Blaine and Marley- and the rest of the world were aging while he would forever be frozen in youth, never a day over twenty-three. _Does it bother you that I’m now older than you’ll ever be?_

Truth be told, Sebastian had never given age much thought. _Age is just a number_ , they say. For him, being immortal means time is infinite. And when one has all the time in the world- it can get rather lonely. Having Marley and Blaine in his life had given him a sense of companionship, a sense of love- and a sense of home.

“We should go soon,” Sebastian whispers along Blaine’s skin.

Without warning, Blaine flips him over and straddles him, kissing him deep.

“Five more minutes.”

“We’re going to be late,” Sebastian tries to say, chuckling in between kisses.

“Nonsense, Doc,” Blaine breathes, eyes hooded with lust. “We have all the time in the world.”

\---

**1999**

The floor of their apartment vibrates along with the thumping bass coming from their downstairs neighbour; they’ve been blaring _Party Like It’s 1999_ for the past hour- even louder now that it’s close to midnight.

Such an obvious choice, Sebastian thinks amusedly, but he’s not one to rain on anyone’s festivities; it’s a historic night for all.

Sebastian sets the two glasses of wine on the blanket where Blaine is huddled on their balcony floor, waiting for the fireworks set to usher in the New Year.

“Isn’t this exciting?” Blaine says as he takes a sip of wine. There’s a touch of pink in his cheeks, kissed by the chilly air, and Sebastian can’t help but stare.

Blaine runs his fingers through his dark hair, hairline thinning with a touch of grey by his temples. There are lines on his face- more prominent now at forty-five- but Blaine remains as beautiful as the day Sebastian had first met him.

“What is?” he asks once he’s managed to tear his attention away from the love of his life, casting his eyes to the winter sky.

“To be here right now and welcome a new millennium.”

Sebastian shrugs, feigning disinterest.

“It’s alright, I suppose.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Blaine hisses but there’s a playful glint in his eye.

A blustery December draft swirls around them as Blaine reaches to put away both their wine glasses and settles himself between Sebastian’s legs, leaning back against his chest. “Not all of us can be over a hundred and forty years old and have all these turn-of-century experiences.”

Sebastian laughs as he curls his body around Blaine’s, the warmth of his body something Sebastian craves. Apart from being immortal, he believes he is the luckiest man alive. What other explanation is there when it comes to Blaine’s presence in his life?

The day Sebastian had realized he had fallen in love with Blaine had been the most terrifying moment of his life. He had wanted nothing more than to be honest with Blaine- no secrets- but what if the man he had fallen in love with refused to believe him when he revealed that he was an immortal? What if Blaine thought him insane?

After much deliberation- a constant back and forth of ‘Should I? Should I not?’- as well as Marley’s never-ending assurance that Blaine was ‘different’, Sebastian had decided to take a chance; he would tell Blaine his life story in its entirety. _Blaine deserves the truth_ , he had thought. _Come what may._

Sebastian had planned to tell Blaine everything one Sunday afternoon, having worked up the courage to- but their walk in the park had been rudely interrupted by a group of bigoted hooligans strangely offended by the sight of two men in love.

After hurling slurs their way, things had escalated rather violently despite Sebastian’s best efforts to ignore the unwelcomed party.

In an attempt to protect Blaine from one hooligan’s assault, Sebastian hadn’t noticed the butterfly knife the man had been branding and he had failed to side-step the man’s attack in time.

He had heard Blaine cry out in anguish as he fell to his knees, his shirt stained red with blood. The pain of the blade slicing past the muscles in his chest had been excruciating but it hadn’t been able to deter the panic he had been feeling.

If he were to die, Blaine would see him disappear; this hadn’t been the way he had wanted Blaine to learn of his condition, his secret.

But before Sebastian could worry anymore about it, he had felt the final beat of his heart and a moment later- he had resurfaced in the East River, frantically gasping for air.

After a quick phone call, Marley had picked him up at the pier- ready with a set of dry clothes and a reprimanding reminder.

“Don’t wait anymore, Papa,” she had said, tone stern but her eyes soft and loving as ever. “Not all of us have the kind of time you do.”

Sebastian had found Blaine later that evening at their apartment, crying in a sweater that he had worn earlier that morning. Blaine had looked up at him as he walked in their front door, his emotions unreadable on his tear-streaked face; had he been shocked? Confused? Terrified?

 Sebastian hadn’t known what to say or what to expect when he had returned home- but he certainly hadn’t expected Blaine to rush into his arms and just... hold him, as though he would never again let go.

The feel of Blaine’s arms clinging to him and the unconditional love Sebastian had felt gave him the courage to finally trust Blaine with his secret, his burden.

And they- along with Marley- have carried that burden together ever since.

 _The luckiest man alive_ , he concurs.

 “You know-” Sebastian whispers, his voice low and seductive, his lips grazing the shell of Blaine’s ear. “- I have witnessed many New Years- but none compares to all the New Years and all the days of these last twenty-six years with you.”

Somewhere below, the countdown begins.

Seven- six- five-

“You’re my favourite part of life, Blaine Anderson.”

Fireworks light up the sky as Blaine turns to face him, his beautiful eyes reflecting the colourful flares. Not for the first time, Sebastian gets lost in them.

Then Blaine kisses him ardently and sparks fly within him at every touch of their lips- something he’ll never tire of after all these years.

“Happy New Year, Doc.”

\---

**2004**

The slam of the door shakes the picture frames lining the wall as Blaine huffs angrily into the parlour.

“I told you this was a terrible idea!”

Sebastian adamantly shakes his head, dejected, wondering how the night had taken a turn for the worse. Tonight was supposed to have been about celebrating Blaine.

“It’s not every day my man turns fifty,” Sebastian had said after proposing they go out for dinner- something elegant, something indulgent.

Over the years, Blaine has grown rather reluctant in going out together. Sebastian knows that it doesn’t stem from shame of being seen with a man who appears to be thirty years younger but the way some parties make him feel.

 _Sugar daddy_ , _cradle-snatcher_ \- some of the labels he’s heard people attribute to Blaine.

“Did you see how those people were looking at us when you kissed me?”

Blaine’s breathing is ragged, his eyes gleaming from tears pricking at the corners. It breaks Sebastian’s heart that the man he loves feels this way- and on his birthday, no less.

“No one was looking, my love. It’s just you and me,” he says, taking Blaine’s shaking hands in his. “It’s always just you and me.”

The trembling in Blaine’s hands subsides but the sadness in his eyes remains.

“I want to believe you, Doc- I do. But every time I look at you-”

“-Then don’t look at me,” Sebastian says, carding a hand through Blaine’s salt and pepper hair. So beautiful, he thinks.

“Sebastian-”

“Close your eyes,” he breathes, holding his lover’s gaze and waits patiently until Blaine humours him. “Now- where do you imagine us?”

Blaine chuckles, eyes still closed.

“You’re ridiculous, Doc.”

“No- _we’re_ ridiculous-” Sebastian says ardently. “- a ridiculous love story. That’s what makes us so special.”

Blaine smiles and it sets his heart aflutter- just as it always has.

 “So- where do you imagine us?”

“I see us-” Blaine says with a euphoric expression on his face. “- I see us in that tiny apartment in Washington Heights- it was so hot that summer- and you were in that Alice Cooper t-shirt with the sleeves cut off- always so handsome- and Al Green was playing-”

Sebastian beams at the memory.

The year was 1978. They had found the perfect apartment to move in together. Blaine had marvelled at Sebastian’s phonograph- a prized possession from his wanderings in 1930s- and requested he play one of his favourite vinyl.

Sebastian had leafed through his collection in one of the boxes and selected something soulful, something sensual- something fitting of the mood of their new home.

The moment the needle grazed the disc, the gorgeous sounds of [_Let’s Stay Together_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=COiIC3A0ROM)had filled the apartment- the bareness of the room making the music echo louder.

Sebastian had mouthed the words of the song as he sashayed towards the man he loves and offered a hand.

“You’re ridiculous,” Blaine had said, giggling as he took his hand.

“Ridiculously in love,” Sebastian had replied easily.

And they had danced amidst the stacks of unpacked boxes- uncaring of the world outside the four walls they call home.

Sebastian takes Blaine’s hand in his and places the other on his lover’s hip as he coaxes their bodies to sway to the music of a memory- a melody that only they can hear.

“Then that’s where we are tonight.”

\---

**PRESENT DAY**

The house keys jingle as Sebastian twirls them around his index finger, whistling joyously down the hall. There’s a spring in his step as he tracks the damask wallpaper along the hallway that leads to the apartment unit.

It had been a slow day at the Medical Examiner’s Office where he works- something he regards as a good thing- so he had decided to come home with lunch to surprise Blaine.

But as he steps into their home, his high spirits begin to deflate as he finds a set of luggage standing next to the front door.

“Blaine?” he calls softly as he places the bag of sandwiches from their favourite deli on the kitchen counter, careful not to startle his lover.

“Sebastian!” Blaine claims in surprise. “What are you doing home so early?”

He eyes the three different passports in Blaine’s hand and an envelope addressed to him in neat penmanship. Sebastian suspects that he doesn’t need to read the contents of the note within to know what it says.

“You’re leaving.” It’s not a question.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“You know why, Doc,” Blaine says, sighing in frustration. “Aren’t your hands full as it is in protecting your secret- your _gift_ \- without having to tow me along?”

He should have known the life they’re forced to lead would one day take its toll on Blaine. The constant moving, the assumed identities and forged paperwork in order to keep his secret safe- it must be slightly overwhelming now that Blaine is in his sixties.

“My hands _are_ full with you-” Sebastian breathes, slowly closing the distance between them, enveloping his arms around Blaine’s delicate frame. “- but only in the best of ways.”

Blaine exhales deeply, burrowing his face into Sebastian’s chest.

“This life- _my_ life- how ever long it is- is nothing without you,” he says, gently tilting Blaine’s chin to face him.  “Everything I’ve learned, everything I’ve ever done, was all so I would be worthy of you.”

Blaine’s eyes soften behind thick, black-rimmed glasses- those beautiful eyes, he marvels- as he cups Sebastian’s face with two hands, calloused by time and age.

“I’ll be gone someday- you know that-”

“Blaine-”

“My story’s at its end, Doc,” Blaine breathes, his eyes glistening with tears. “If I stay, it won’t end well for you- for us-”

“Who cares how it ends?” Sebastian says patiently, echoing a similar sentiment Blaine had uttered once.

“Everything you are is for something bigger-” Blaine breathes. “You were made like this for a reason, Doc- but it wasn’t for me.”

A pain slices through his chest as a breath catches in his breastbone. It breaks Sebastian’s heart to hear Blaine say those words. He doesn’t know the true reason he’s made immortal- and maybe he never will- but one thing is for sure- Blaine is everything to him.

“Maybe, maybe not-” he says, stroking Blaine’s thinning, grey curls lovingly. “My mother used to tell anyone who’d listen- _That Sebastian, always eager to help people-_ ” he recounts a memory of a life so long ago. “And for two centuries, I’ve done just that. I’ve lived many lives, seen many things- but the truth is I never really _lived_ until I met you.”

He’s said this countless times before but he’ll say it- and again- as many times as Blaine needs to hear it.

“Sebastian,” Blaine whispers as a tear rolls down his cheek. Sebastian moves to wipe it away as his chest expands with so much love for the man he’s spent the better part of four decades with.

“Whether I’m this way for something bigger- or whether I’m merely the Universe’s anomaly- I _was_ made for you- as you were for me-”

Blaine tiptoes to claim his lips; four decades and a myriad of kisses later- every glide of their lips still leaves him heady.

“I’m so sorry-” Blaine whispers against his lips. “I thought I would be doing the right thing. I just want what’s best for you.”

Sebastian knows this, knows that whatever decision Blaine had made- it was born out of love, out of the need to protect.

There had been a time long ago when he had thought leaving Blaine was for the best- to save the love of his life from the hurt and complications his immortality might entail.

 “You’re leaving me,” Blaine had barked matter-of-factly decades ago, standing between Sebastian and the front door.

“I’m sorry- Blaine- I-”

“Why?”

He had sighed, heartbroken and torn between staying and leaving.

“Because it won’t work- it can’t-”

“- I’ve read your letter," Blaine had said, holding out a piece of paper, crumpled from being clenched in his fist.

Earlier, Sebastian had written, with a heavy heart- all the reasons why it would be best for him to leave in a letter he had intended Blaine to find long after he had left.

“Do you love me?” Blaine had demanded.

“Yes-” he had answered swiftly, his affections unwavering. But Sebastian’s life was far too complicated.

He needed to move to a different city or a different country every few years so that no one would notice that he didn’t age, that while some friends, colleagues withered and died, he remained exactly as he had the day they had met him. It was enough that he had subjected Marley to the ways of his life- he wasn’t about to do it to Blaine. The man he loved deserved better, he had thought.

“- but trust me, if you stick with me- it won’t end well.”

“Who cares how it ends?” Blaine asks, almost yelling. “It’s life along the way that matters- and I want it all- with you- for as long as it last.”

Sebastian had laughed, enamoured by the tenacity of Blaine Anderson; it had reminded him of what it was that made him fall for the man all those years ago amidst a war in Vietnam.

“That can be a long time with me,” he had jested.

Blaine had rushed to close the space between them, taking away the packed suitcase from his hand and chucking it to the side.

“Then I suppose you’re stuck with me,” Blaine had purred. “I’m sorry, Sebastian Smythe, I’m not letting go so easily.”

There’s a honk from the street below, the sound wafting through the opened window, pulling him back to the now where they stand in the home they have made together, tangled in each other’s arms. Nothing else matters when he’s in Blaine’s arms; not the outside world, not time- nothing.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Sebastian breathes, caressing Blaine’s cheek, every stroke pouring his love for the man. “I love you- for as long as I live, I will love you.”

Blaine laughs, hearty and youthful before placing a kiss to Sebastian’s lips.

“That’s a really long time, Doc.”

“Then I guess I’m stuck with loving you-” Sebastian purrs against Blaine’s ear, which makes the man laugh even more. “- because I’m sorry, Blaine Anderson. I’m not letting go so easily.”

 

\---END

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> Comments welcomed.


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